Just Enough
by Spit the Devil
Summary: Dean reflects briefly on his relationship with Castiel.


**Title: **Just Enough

**Rating:** M

**Characters/Pairing: **Dean/Castiel

**Summary: **Dean reflects briefly on his relationship with Castiel.

**A/N: **Fluff. There are absolutely no other words to describe this story. Just something _really _(probably the shortest piece of shit I've ever written) short and light that I had to get off my chest before I started investing all my time in the multiple chapter business. Slash, obviously. Don't like, don't read. Criticisms are more than welcome! I spellchecked it about a billion times, but I'm human and I make mistakes. A lot of mistakes.

* * *

><p>Cas wasn't an angel anymore. He had about enough of that holy mojo left in him to fill a teaspoon. Dean liked to joke around and say that the day he began to notice it was when that holy tax accountant outfit stopped cleaning itself, but he and Cas knew differently. The day that Cas fell was like their dirty little secret—something they seldom talked about outside of the bedroom they now shared. It ranked pretty high up there on Dean's 'worst days of my life' list. And yeah, there was a whole list.<p>

Dean didn't know when exactly he had started referring to Cas as his, or when he started to see a whole world of emotions in those stormy blue eyes. All he knew was that the day that Castiel fell, everything changed. He wasn't sure what had done it—it could have been when he held the limp, newly human Cas in his strong arms, feeling that instinctive, almost overwhelming need to protect as he rubbed the pad of his thumb in reassuring circles along the expanse of Cas's back. He had been so delicate then, a brand new human in the world, a newborn babe. It could also have been when the ex-angel's eyes had finally fluttered lazily open to stare up at him, their color an electric, almost violet blue. Those eyes had never been so bright, so curious, staring up at Dean as if he had all the goddamn answers. Nobody had ever looked at Dean like that before. If he hadn't been on the dirty ground already, Castiel's body held tight to his own, the force of such unrelenting trust (and the knowledge that he of all people didn't deserve it) would have surely brought the hunter to his knees.

The covers rustled softly beside him as Cas shifted, his back no longer to Dean. He really was a restless sleeper—the first night they had fallen asleep together, Castiel had damn near kicked Dean off the bed, hogging all of his coziest blankets for good measure. Sure, it made his ex-angel a pretty lame cuddle buddy, but Dean had to admit that he liked it like that. He liked his distance. Being a creature of habit, he still had to fight the morning-after urge to run for the hills. Of course, the sleepy and openly trusting look he received when Cas woke up was always more than enough reason to stay just a little bit longer.

But right now, Dean felt none of that all-too familiar claustrophobia. In some dingy motel room bed, next to _his_ pathetic excuse for an angel, all he really felt was peace. And yeah, he wasn't sure how long it would be until he felt that serenity again. Hell, he didn't know if he or Cas would even survive to see the next morning, demons tailing them and all. But he could worry about tomorrow when it got there. For now, the slow rise and fall of Castiel's chest was all he needed to calm his erratic nerves and scattered thoughts, enabling him to drift off into a fairly restful sleep. Until Cas started kicking again, of course.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Love it? Hate it? Let me know! Do you think I did the characters in the show justice? I didn't really have to search too deep for Dean's voice (we're two wayward peas in a pod), but I still have miles of room to improve. As usual, my ending was awkward _and_ it was terribly written _and_ if you can't tell, I'm not too fond of all that touchy-feely love bullshit. I just really wanted to write this and be done with it. As Dean would say, let's get the credits rolling on this chick flick!


End file.
